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The Case of Stitch (Part 4)
John came over to my place after work. We decided to do a little investigation or experiment, if you will, alone in my apartment, and a little research. If we could even find anything about this thing. We left the office around 5 pm and met up around 8. We just hung out for a couple hours, playing video games, making some food, talking about the zombie apocalypse and what we would do to survive. Just guy stuff. It was a nice break from the case. We started doing research around 11 and ended up in the deep end of the internet. Places I've never been to, but in the back of my mind I knew existed. You know those sites. Everybody has that wonder of how deep and twisted the internet is. Well most of those ideas you all think of, are true. But I'm not going to give any website addresses, so don't ask. We stumbled upon this one website... it was all black with pictures of rotting skulls everywhere, and the main picture in the middle of the website was just a picture of a goat head, decapitated and rotting in front of a pentagram. That site had a couple of interesting things about something that seemed to match Stitch, for the most part. They had the stitched skin, chains, naked. But on the website, they talked about it having eyes and then losing them. It didn't say how he lost them, but a few commenters on the articles were all furiously talking... a lot of capitalized letters and exclamation marks. There were some comments in Norwegian, some in German and very few in English. It seemed like it was all the English speaking commenters who were asking how he lost his eyes. There was only one response. A really long comment, sometimes repeating sentences, in some language we didn't quite know. There was a commenter on the article we posted on reddit named "RepetitiveRoutine". He mentioned using Google Translate to figure out what Stitch called himself... or claimed he was called, rather. He was a nice guy. We got in contact with him right away and thanked him for showing interest in the case. He offered his assistance and we let him help. We plan on video chatting soon. Anyways, the comment was in a very old language. One you never hear anymore, but it does still exist. It was in Aramaic. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that was the language Jesus Christ himself spoke—that old of a language. Not just old, but ancient. We got in contact with a world language expert that I knew from college who now works for the military. We asked him what the commenter was saying, but he couldn't make out that many words. He said it's much older than we thought. He made out something about the thing enjoying self mutilation. He would poke his eyes with his fingers over and over again. He would pull on his eye lids in all directions. Peel his skin off with a knife. Shave his head with a razor, leaving scars and gashes all over his bald head. Like he was some kind of masochist. It also talked about the thing cutting the skin to his knees off and hitting the kneecaps with a hammer. That was all he could get out of it. Other comments in German talked about him getting sexual pleasure from harming himself and others, ultimately leading to the death of his poor victims. He enjoyed taking their body parts and making disfigured bodies out of them. He would claim to be married to them. Other people from Norway would claim he would give the body parts to Satan himself for his godly powers. We had enough with that site though. We went on to try to figure out if there were any survivors. There weren't any. Although, some commenters speaking in Chinese would explain how he would chain the soul of his latest victim to himself and walk them to the Gates of Hell personally. So once you were his victim... you were his victim forever. But what I want to know is how all these people came to learn this about Stitch and we weren't able to learn anything. Were we not trying hard enough? Were we not religious enough? I have no idea. The last commenter mentioned how this thing—apparently it was a man once—died. After all of his monstrous acts, whatever the truth about his wrong doings may be, the civilization he lived in murdered him. He mentioned how he was torn apart by horses... A rope tied to each of his limbs was attached to a horse and they ran off in different directions, tearing him to pieces. After the horses pulled him apart, the people let the dogs go at him. They tore him to even more pieces. They left the body there to rot. They came back a week later and the body was gone. Not even a blood trail to follow. That night, as everybody was laying down to sleep, they heard crying. Animals crying. They found their dogs with their stomachs ripped open, some of the animals ripped in half. We are not positive, but we are assuming that is how Stitch got his skin back after being eaten by the dogs. The commenter did not say. John and I got curious about all these people and their information. We tried tracking them down through their internet providers and IP addresses but nothing came up. Not a country... city... zip code... home address.... Nothing. It struck us as odd. So that is all we learned about Stitch. I honestly don't want to know anymore. But for some strange reason, I feel like we’re much closer to capturing him now. We got connected to the video chat with the commenter from reddit and started telling him all that we learned and he seemed really interested. Like none of it bothered him. At least we had someone new to help us. It would also help us get through it faster with his motivation. And a new eye on the case is always good. Like they say, two heads is better than one. So four was probably better than the three we had. After a while discussing Stitch and all we learned, we decided to see how to get him to show himself. We absolutely needed to figure out how Stitch chose his victims. If we could bait him into coming to us, we could catch him and put an end to all this terror. I asked the commenter to scare himself. Told him to get scared. Considering Stitch mentioned he could smell the last victim’s fear. It took a long time, but he was finally scared. He said after a while he started hearing thumps and whispers. We knew Stitch was close. “Turn off every light in your house, except the light closest to the window in the back of your house and the window in the front,” I told him. Then I asked him to stand in front of each window looking out for at least 2 minutes, in case Stitch was around. He would see he is home. After the four or five minutes, he came back to his computer and asked for further directions. He mentioned his front window was open before he got to it. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. John told him to make sure there was nothing on that can possibly create any sound. It needs to be completely silent. The commenter sat there, waiting. We all sat in the silent dark just listening. Staring into each other’s homes. Then we heard thumping. He said it was coming from his hallway. We told him to get in either his closet or under the bed or something. Go anywhere, just hide. “Take a camera with you in case Stitch comes in. You can take video or pictures of him,” I urged. Right before he went to hide I told him to stop being afraid. “Don't be scared. That will just make things worse. Stop being afraid. I promise he is not real. We're going to figure this out.” He went and hid in his closet. It was silent, deathly so. We couldn't see anything. We just sat there looking into his room. My heart was pounding out of my chest and I felt sick. I was on the edge of my seat. John and I both were. It was like we were watching one of those internet jokes where you watch and wait for the paranormal activity to start, but a face just pops up and screams at you. We started to hear thumping. It got louder and louder and so did the voice. As usual it was talking to itself. The bedroom door opened. Stitch walked in and just stood in the middle of the room. Stood there for about 20 minutes. Just stood there. Then for no reason at all, he just started laughing. Louder and louder. While he laughed maniacally some sort of liquid spat out of his mouth. We assumed it was blood. As the laughing got louder and louder... it happened. The damn kid screamed. He started screaming how he was so scared and didn't want to do it. “Kid, shut the fuck up! Don't be scared! He can't hurt you!” I screamed back at him. Stitch turned his head and looked directly into the webcam. My heart sunk into my chest. It hurt. The commenter screamed again. Stitch turned his head as fast as lightning and looked at the closet. John screamed telling him to keep hiding and Stitch turned his head back to the webcam. The commenter screamed saying he was going to run. Stitch turned his back to the closet. All this time, Stitch was smiling. John yelled for him to run. Stitch turned his head to the webcam. Just as he did, the commenter opened the closet door and took two steps. But he didn’t get any farther. Stitch stretched his arm out and grabbed the commenter by the neck without even looking at him. He was still looking at us. I was breathing so fast I was getting light headed. “Is this some kind of game?” Stitch asked, followed by laughter. “You were trying to trick me? How did you think you would catch me? You are no match for me. Now because of you, I will take this boy’s soul and strike him with my chains for all of eternity. I will feed him to my dogs and bring him back and do it again. And I have you to thank.” Stitch yelled. His voice made my skin crawl. I could hardly believe what we were seeing. He stepped towards the camera and tilted his head forward. “Do you have any more unfortunate souls you would like to have play this pathetic game? Hiding in closets or under beds does not make you safe from me. I can smell your fear right now. I can taste it,” he said while rubbing his disgusting bloody fingers on his tongue. “I want to feel your heart beating,” he yelled. Stitch then did the unthinkable. He reached his hand towards us... it came straight through my monitor. I slammed my laptop closed and all I could hear was his laugh, echoing in my head. That's it... I... don't know what to do anymore. I want to leave. Forever. Move out of the country and live in the woods somewhere. To the parents of RepetitiveRoutine, I am so sorry. I should have known what was going to happen. I don't know what to say. And as for all you other readers... please do not do what we had RepetitiveRoutine do. Stitch will enjoy it and it will just make him stronger. It is not a game. It is death. Category:Computers and Internet Category:Diary/Journal Category:Disappearances Category:Dismemberment Category:Monsters